"I'd rather not think about it," Osamu decides after a beat. He takes the pump over to the pile of deflated volleyballs, and picks up the first one there. It looks fuller than it feels when he presses his palms into it, and he nods to himself and affixes the needle at the end of the nozzle into the volleyball's opening.

They work in relative silence, with Osamu grunting a bit under his breath as he pumps up the volleyballs. He can't stop thinking about the conversation he really wanted to have with Kita, the one he hoped would come up after he shared his cooking. His plan was ruined by his hapless, stupid twin, so now Osamu just needs to be brave.

"I really like cooking," he says, apropos of nothing. "Makes me feel the way volleyball does."